


Trust The Fall

by slugmanslime



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Awesome Bulma Briefs, ChiChi Likes to Garden and Fight, Dealing with sadness and loneliness, F/M, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Goku may or may not appear?, I do not condone cheating!, Learning how to move on, Love Triangles are Complicated, Other, Piccolo Has a Heart, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 02:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18540049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugmanslime/pseuds/slugmanslime
Summary: Sometimes, life doesn't work out the way you plan. Time is always moving forwards, and change is imminent. ChiChi is strong, she handles it the best she can, but what do you do when your dreams grow up? Piccolo offers what help he can at Gohan's request, and ends up with far more than he bargained for. (Updates when possible!)





	1. 'I wasn't ready to say goodbye.'

**Author's Note:**

> hey folks, thanks for dropping by! it seems that i can only write angst when it comes to chichi but i promise that wont be the case for every chapter (the worlds best mom deserves BETTER). i'm writing these chapters based on sentence prompts i find, so if you want to see something, drop a comment or find me on tumblr (@slugmanslime). 
> 
> disclaimer: i have nothing against goku, and i understand that marriage is very complicated, and that he and chichi's relationship has always been unique. this is just my take on a series of 'what if?'s. 
> 
> i am in college, so i don't always have a ton of time, but when the mood strikes i'll do my best to update! i'm not sure how long this puppy will be, but i want to see it to its end. 
> 
> hope you enjoy!  
> \- slimes

Summer fled the valley in what seemed like one swift leap, stealing up the mountain and leaving a swath of gold, crimson, and orange in its wake. A thick blanket of silence covered the forest, above a thicker layer of leaves covering the ground.

 

Silence was becoming a pervasive part of ChiChi’s life. Their little house on the hill was once full of boisterous children and huge meals, laughter and scolding and love.  Now, emptiness seeped through the cracks of her front door, whispering like fog gathering at her ankles. She could never quite make out what it said, but its presence stole what filled her heart, leaving her hollow instead. 

 

How can you be alone when someone else is there, sharing your food, your time, your home?

 

Goku came and went, training and eating and leaving her a little colder with every lopsided smile he spared her at the door. She wondered if there was something wrong with her, if she was a bad wife. Of all the people she missed, Goku was somewhere in between the first on the list and not even making the cut. ChiChi was guilty of many things, her expectations of him being the most obvious. She married someone she didn’t know, and expected him to fill a mold fit only for a man. For that, he was blameless, and she was grateful for his efforts. Especially the ones that gave her their sons. 

 

Gohan, bless him, he’d taken a gentler route. West City University welcomed him with open arms and a full ride scholarship-- something ChiChi would never allow him to pass up, no matter how much Goku plead to train him. It would seem that he got his wish with Goten, anyway. Goku was his idol, and what child didn’t want a superhero for a father? Goten studied as hard as she could expect him to; she cherished those moments, chiding herself for babying him. But what could she do? Those were nearly the only times she ever saw him these days. 

 

Goten was getting older, following his father’s footsteps. Gohan was grown now, strong and independent with a bright future and a feisty young lady to keep him on his toes in the big city. Goku was… gone. Predictably. 

 

It didn't hurt as much now, which was making her feel more guilty than the fact that he was crossing her mind less and less these days. 

 

Autumn wind rattled against the loosely shuttered window in the sitting room, knocking it open and startling ChiChi. Her eyes drifted from the abandoned laundry she’d been folding to the window. She tossed down a torn gi and wandered to the window. The cold licked along her fingertips as she reached for the latch and shut it once more.

 

“Would it kill yah to knock?” 

 

Piccolo didn’t falter, closing the heavy oak door softly behind him. “Would it kill you to lock the door?”

 

ChiChi returned to the pile of clothes without sparing him a glance, but her posture was friendly. They didn’t need as many words. It seemed that Piccolo was the only person that didn't trigger her harping urge. “It’s just me up here now. Nobody is sniffin’ around this place anymore, and you know it.” 

 

Per their ritual, his shoulder pads were left by the front door, which clunked when he slide the lock closed. ChiChi rolled her eyes but smirked anyway. “Didn’t know you were comin’ by today, I would’ve made some of those little sandwiches you like. Is it something urgent?” A part of pants  _ thwapped _ as she flicked them before folding them into a little stack. 

 

He didn’t respond immediately, instead surveying the living room slowly, like he was missing something. She wouldn’t be surprised if he felt the emptiness too. It was driving her crazy, that was for damn sure.

 

“How long?”

 

ChiChi huffed. “Am I supposed to guess what that means?”

 

“How long since anyone has been back?” His mellow tone masked something simmering. Dark eyes bore into her face, but she didn’t look up. “How long have you been standing there folding that same basket of clothing?”

 

“It’s…” She hesitated, drawing one of Goten’s shirts to her chest. “Why would you ask somethin’ you already know the answer to? You like torturin’ me?” 

 

“So it is torture then, being here alone?”

 

There was a pregnant pause before she answered. “I get that solitude is your thing, Piccolo, but humans are social creatures. I just… I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Goodbye to all of it.” ChiChi rattled a sigh before steeling herself. “It’s uncomfortable, but I’ll live. ” For good measure, she finally met his gaze and gave a firm smile. Too firm, from the way his scowl deepened. 

 

He finally approached her, taking a lotus position on the floor where they could comfortably talk. With his height, he was eye-level with her chest, which seemed to put her a little more at ease when he attempted to broach difficult topics. Come to think of it… why was he broaching this? He begrudgingly missed the brats, that was for sure. It was apparent to anyone with eyes that she did as well. Was it nostalgia?

 

Why doesn’t he just say, ‘Oh, ChiChi, I just came by to reminisce! Remember that time I kidnapped Gohan as a toddler? Wow, good times.’ That might turn out better for him in the long run. 

 

That would probably break his promise to Gohan, however. Upsetting his mother was the opposite of what he'd had asked of the Namekian. With all his free time, Piccolo was tasked with (more like tricked into) consistently providing company and aid to ChiChi, without her knowing it, if possible. Kami knows the woman would have a meltdown if she thought she was being pitied. Curse the kid and his inhuman puppy dog eyes. 

 

“There’s more to living than housework and reading the same romance novel every night, you know.” Piccolo rumbled, hoping to incite some snark. 

 

ChiChi had half a mind to throw a sock at him, aware of the game. “I’ll have you know that  _ Oasis, My Heart _ is a timeless classic, and well worth the read. It’s somethin’ to do, at least.” The sock ended up folded with its match, making a tiny pair. “Actually, I’m thinkin’ about startin’ a garden soon. Somethin’ close to the house, small enough I can haul the crops to the market myself. I don’t have the labor to take care of the fields anymore, may as well sell ‘em…” She mumbled on, snagging another shirt and folding it with distracted hands. 

 

Piccolo nodded, silently agreeing. “You should train until spring then. To keep your strength up, at least. Tending a small farm by yourself would be a strain, I can imagine.” She wouldn’t be doing it alone, of course, but she didn’t need to know that. 

 

“Train? I’m sick of the word.” 

 

“I could… train with you.” He sounded gruffer, as if the words caught in his throat. She shook her head, lips quirked. 

 

“Did Gohan put you up to this, Piccolo? You know how he gets, you shouldn’t--” 

 

He cut her off with hastily, nearly biting his tongue. “So I’m not allowed to be nice, then, is that all? Forgive me for trying to distract you from your misery.” Maybe a little too cutting, but it sparked that righteous ember in his eye that he was relieved to see still smoldered. 

 

“Just who do you think you are to tell me how I’m feeling, you pompous green jerk!” The sock bundle struck him square between the antennae. “I’ll train when I damn well want to, just like I’ll fold these damn socks as many times as it takes!” 

 

“Don’t you think once would be enough?” 

 

“Alright, smartass, meet me outside. I think training should start now.” 

 

Piccolo responded only with a rare, toothy grin. Feisty ChiChi he could handle, she was the norm. He wasn’t ready to admit that it was Sad ChiChi who truly unnerved him. 


	2. 'Quit going easy on me.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training commences, and tea is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm pretty pleased with this, and it was pretty easy to write, which made me so very happy and proud of myself. it seems that its still kind of linear right now but it may not always be that way! 
> 
> thanks again for stopping by <3  
> \-- slimes

It wasn’t pleasant to train out in the cold. It had been so long that she’d been able to keep indoors rather than grapple in the wilderness that she nearly forgot how exasperating it was. What’s worse, the Namekian was doing his damndest not to appear bothered, when it was  _ obvious _ that he was. Why couldn’t they be miserable together? He was denying her that simple pleasure, the bastard. 

 

If she knew him at all, this was part of his ‘training.’ Alright, so be it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of bowing out. 

 

Panting, ChiChi shifted her stance in the slush that was last nights snow, now mixed with grass and dirt from their combat practice. She was grimey, tired, sore, and couldn’t feel her toes at this point. A few feet away, the tips of Piccolo’s ears were a deep violet, which was the only indication of his chill. He had ditched his weighed garb, but why she couldn’t really pinpoint. To make her feel better about being cold? To make himself an easier target? She grimaced at the thought.

 

“It’s been two hours, Greenie. Quit going easy on me or I’m going to yeild and go make myself a nice hot cup of tea.” She lowered her guard minutely, quirking her icey brow at him. 

 

He glared (his usual expression) but now it was covered in a thin layer of frost. If her face wasn’t nearly frozen, she might have laughed. “The weather isn’t permitting me to push your limits how I want to. I refuse to be at fault if you injure yourself trying to leave a mark on me.” 

 

Her fists wedged firmly on her hips, taking stance to mock him. “ _ Oh, you’re just a tiny woman, and I’m freezing cold! I don’t want to train, I want to complain and make you do all the work, even though this was _ my idea!”

 

Piccolo responded by launching another front, but to his surprise she had been expecting it. She dodged first to the left, then to the right, avoiding his fists with a slick spin that allowed her to jam her foot into his kidney. At least, where a human kidney would be; from his grunt, it hurt just the same. She huffed a laugh, skipping away and taking her guard once more. All it took was a little prodding of the beast; maybe if she annoyed him enough he would let her take refuge out of the cold. Inside. Where it was  _ warm _ . 

 

She had no such luck. 

 

Piccolo utilized his inhuman speed against her, as she was a smaller and more agile opponent, even when wet and freezing. Whenever she tried to dance away, he was right there, meeting her with a barrage of blows of which she managed to block most. But there were a few gut shots, which winded her enough to make him pause. ChiChi wheezed and panted, fighting to get enough air to return the favor. When she caught her breath, she glowered up at him indignantly before diving back in.

 

The snow made any acrobatics difficult but she attempted nonetheless, leaping to kick at his exposed head and chest. After all these years, her drive hadn’t waned; rather, it seemed she had a lot of energy pent up. Two hours, coming up on three, of non-stop fighting in sleet and high winds, and this woman was still holding her own. The muscles in her thighs bunched under her clothes when she leapt and kicked, still wiry and brimming with strength even a few decades of domestic life. 

 

Although he might rather choke on the words, ChiChi continued to impress him. 

 

“Oof! Argh, damnit!” The snow had turned on her during her last assault. Her foot lost its grip and she went up in the air, missing his face by a mile, before landing wetly on her back. She cocked back her legs, determined to rise and keep fighting if winning was out of her reach, but a large foot on her stomach left her pinned. 

 

“Enough. You did well today.” He stared down at her, bare arms crossed over his broad chest. She didn’t like the amusement hidden in his eyes, like her slip was something he’d been waiting for.

 

“Don’t patronize me! I did the best I could with the hand I was dealt. Now, lemme up, its cold and now I’ve got more laundry to wash!” 

 

“No laundry. If I remember correctly, someone mentioned hot tea earlier.”

 

“Oh-- are you kiddin’ me?” She squirmed underfoot, sinking further into the mud with every wiggle. “Piccolo, off, now!”

 

“Say it. Say, ‘I’ll make tea before anything else, because I lost and that is my punishment’, and then I’ll let you up. It seems to be fair.” He didn’t budge, ignoring her attempts to pry his foot away. Was he really that heavy?

 

“You slimey--! I’ll make the blasted tea you big bully, now get off of me before I change my mind and lock you out of my house!” 

 

The foot vanished and ChiChi rolled on her side for leverage, the mud making a disgusting sucking ground as she escaped its grasp. Panting, she attempted to stand, but a large hand encircled her bicep and lifted her easily to her feet. She shrugged him off without a second glance, storming up the hill to the house. 

 

Piccolo felt… well, not exactly  _ guilty _ , but not very proud of his antics, either. She had mud caked in her hair, clinging to every part of her back down to her calves. He followed slowly, not wanting his longer strides to bring him next to her, but not because he was embarrassed. He ducked through the front door a few seconds after the filthy woman, pausing to watch her remove her ruined shoes, and he did the same, but not because he felt ashamed at all. 

 

“ChiChi…” He began softly, his shoulder pads taking their familiar spot by the door.  “Let me start the tea. You’ll track mud all over the house like that.”

 

That was absolutely  _ not _ the right thing to say, and to make matters worse he didn’t feel any better for offering. Even though he was not guilty. 

 

“And whose fault is that?!” She twirled to face him, chest heaving with anger. “You squished me into the dirt like a worm! I get it, I ain’t as sharp as I used to be, I’m not as strong, I don’t make a challenging opponent anymore! All I’m good at is takin’ care of my house and  **_making tea_ ** ! But you--” She pointed a finger at him, and she may as well have jabbed him in the chest with something sharp. 

 

“You are the one who told me to get out of the house in the first place, so why don’t you start making sense! I am not a toy, my emotions are not somethin’ to play with when you’re bored or bitter about the deal you made with my son. Yes, I know aaall about that, you made it  _ very _ clear.” 

 

Piccolo felt something very close to guilt. He would rather ChiChi had actually stabbed him for his troubles. 

 

“It’s not th--” 

 

“ **Can it** , greenie! I don’t want to hear it! I’m goin’ to change now because I want to, not because you suggested it. And I’ll make some tea if I damn well feel like it!” 

 

The bedroom door slammed before he could get another word in. 

 

When she emerged, it was to the smell of smoke, lavender, and ginseng. Her hair hung damp around her shoulders as she bundled her nightgown and robe tighter around her, the warmth of the sitting room a nice contrast to how cold her ears still were. A fire crackled in the fireplace, filling the house with heat as the frosty night truly set it. Just beyond, in the compact kitchen, a soft whistle carried to her. He was… making the tea? 

 

The kettle looked absolutely tiny in his massive, clawed hands, but he held it with surprising grace. Tea arched into two small glass cups, steam swirling into the air above them invitingly. ChiChi wordlessly sunk to her knees at the table with her head drooping. She was tired from the days of training and the inclement weather. She was tired of cleaning a spotless house. More than anything, she was tired of Piccolo always being around, trying small talk and helping when she wasn’t looking before he slipped up and let some of his asshole self peek through his mask. 

 

A cup was placed in front of her, and she wordlessly wrapped her fingers around the warm glass. 

 

“I am sorry.”

 

“Yeah, you are sorry.” 

 

“I  _ mean _ , I am sorry for the way I treated you during our fight. It wasn’t honorable at all, the victory that I claimed.” 

 

“I would say it was pretty damn dirty, figuratively and literally.”

 

She glanced up in time to see a very scolded look flit across his features. ChiChi almost smiled. 

 

“I’m not as prideful as the Saiyans, but as a warrior, I must admit when I am wrong. Otherwise, I lose any progress I’ve made. You are very agile, and a formidable opponent, ChiChi. Don’t let my actions dictate how you see yourself, especially when I am…”

 

“A real grade-A scumsucker?” 

 

“I suppose that is an apt description.” Piccolo shifted in his lotus position across from her, pausing to mull his words and sip his drink. 

 

She had heard very few true apologies from those that had done her wrong in her life. But she had heard enough to judge the genuine ones. ChiChi sighed and rolled her neck before sipping her tea with a hum. 

 

“I have one condition, Piccolo.”

 

Dare she say, his face held a hint of hopefulness. “Speak it.”

 

“You’re gonna to learn how to do laundry, properly, from me. For every foul shot you take, you’ve got a load waitin’ here to wash, dry, and fold. Tomorrow, you’ve got your work cut out for you. Think of it as… alternative training.” For the first time since their fight, she smiled, cruel and pleased. 

 

His hope shifted to mortification, and then to chagrined acceptance. Good-- there was no way she would allow him to weasel out of this. “Training me for domesticity?”

 

“No, trainin’ you in humility.” 

 

“Don’t you think Vegeta may need that more than I do?”

 

That earned him a snicker. “Vegeta doesn’t have to wash mud outta all my clothes tomorrow, now does he?”

 

“He should count himself lucky.” Another sip, followed by a smirk. “His wife doesn’t make him do laundry as punishment.” 

 

“Well, we aren’t married either, so there’s that.” ChiChi winced as the words left her mouth, unable to stop herself from the automatic correction.

 

The conversation puttered as they nursed their cups of tea, pink flush matching violet. As much as she wanted to salvage it, she also considered letting it be. Sitting in company, warm and clean and exhausted… it felt better, somehow. As the silence wore on, the awkwardness faded, and the fire burned low. Eventually, after several more quiet cups of tea, ChiChi yawned and shifted to stretch her legs. 

 

“I’m going to bed, Piccolo. I expect you here bright and early to start…”

 

He didn’t stand when she did; in fact, he didn’t seem to be listening at all. Piccolo was sitting peacefully, his head angled downwards and hands folded against his thighs. After a long moment of observing his peaceful, meditating form, ChiChi gently moved the dishes to the sink so as not to disturb him. 

 

Some part of her was relieved that there was someone else in the house when she crawled into bed. She didn’t know if he’d be there when she awoke, but for the moment, it didn’t matter. ChiChi had a purpose for tomorrow, and a friend to share the day with. 

 

A friend. In the dark of her bedroom, shifting in the cold sheets, ChiChi drifted into a dreamless sleep. 


End file.
